


Breaking Eggs

by spikewriter



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-15
Updated: 2010-10-15
Packaged: 2017-10-12 16:49:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikewriter/pseuds/spikewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You can't make an omelet without breaking eggs." "If you made an omelette, I'd expect to find a pile of broken crockery, a cooker in flames and an unconscious chef!" What if Romana had asked Duggan to come along at the end of "City of Death?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Eggs

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Minor and Original Character Ficathon hosted by Who Like Giants on Live Journal. Frankly, I think they could have done a marvelous spin-off with Romana and Duggan solving mysteries and quipping at one another. The breakage costs might have been a bit high, though...

Duggan watched as Romana and the Doctor headed across the swath of grass that edged the Eiffel Tower. As if aware of being observed, the pair turned to look up and wave. "Goodbye, Duggan," the Doctor called, his face split in the manic grin that had become all too familiar.

Romana waved as well, and Duggan realized that was whom he was truly going to miss. As he raised his own hand in return, she called out, "Why don't you come with us?"

For a moment, Duggan simply stared down at her, the offer so amazing that his mind couldn't quite wrap itself around the idea. Given how the Doctor's head snapped toward her and the indignant, "What?" he wasn't the only one with that problem.

The idea was mad, utterly and completely. He had no idea where these two came from – and probably wouldn't believe them if he actually got a straight answer – and no one in their right mind would go haring off across wherever without some idea of what they were getting into. The sensible thing would be to wave goodbye, then go and deal with the paperwork that needed to be filed to close out this case.

Duggan looked at the postcard of the Mona Lisa in his hand, then back down at the couple who were now arguing. Utterly, totally and completely mad. _I should have my head examined_ , he thought as he headed for the lift that would carry him to the bottom of the Tower.

The argument seemed to have stopped by the time he reached them, the Doctor having shrunk somewhat into the behemoth scarf wrapped about him, looking at neither Duggan nor Romana. "Are you serious?" Duggan asked her.

"I think it'd be great fun," she said in that artfully disarming way of her. "Don't you agree, Doctor?"

The Doctor mumbled something under his breath Duggan was pretty certain wasn't flattering. For just a moment, that was enough to make him reconsider, but he pushed ahead before rational thought could come up with all the reasons why he shouldn't do this. "A week or two might do me good," he said as "I've got some leave time coming, and you usually take a break after a major case anyway. Don't want folks to get too wound up -- that's how you break."

He wasn't at all certain if the smile she was giving him was understanding or amused. He never was sure with her, though he wouldn't mind finding out. Sure, there was the Doctor, but a vacation was a vacation and what harm was a bit of a flirtation? _If_ she was flirting; he wasn't sure of that either. Still, she trotted happily along side him as he found a phone to make the necessary calls, promising his superiors to post the appropriate paperwork. "Do I need to get travelers' checks?" he asked when that was done.

Again, she just smiled. "I don't think they'll do you much good where we're going."

The ship was a shock at first, but if he could deal with five fake Mona Lisa all painted by da Vinci, he could handle a little blue box that was bigger on the inside. At least, that's what he told himself as his stomach lurched at the strange sound that signaled the start of their journey.

# # #

Their first stop was a world where giant birds flew through the air as tall, graceful creatures strolled along polished streets past buildings that rivaled Paris in their beauty. The Doctor kept up a running travel commentary while Romana smiled and Duggan simply stared, taken by the wonder of it all. Not for the first time in his life, he felt as if he were walking on egg shells, afraid the smallest wrong move would result in some damage, but never had the feeling been more intense than it was at this moment.

That lasted until the attempted coup against the Elong'thizyci -- or however they pronounced the title of their ruler. When he saw the weapon, Duggan didn't think but relied on his training, using a swift karate chop to the forearm (he thought it was a forearm), an elbow to the chest, following up with a right to the jaw. The assassin went down, but everyone was staring, a low, clicking murmuring passing through the crowd. "Oh, dear," said Romana. "I fear you've upset their religious ceremony."

"But he -- she -- it was going to shoot their -- whatever you call the high muckety-muck."

"Yes, but they would have preferred if you'd used more discretion and less shouting. Now they'll have to start the prayers over again and they were a good seventy-two hours into the ceremony, I'm afraid. Doctor, it would probably be best if we left before we're formally told we're persona non-grata."

The Doctor mumbled something under his breath, but led them back to the TARDIS, sulking all the way. "I'm afraid he's feeling a bit put out," Romana said after the Doctor had shooed them both from the control room. "He was looking forward to seeing the central ritual and now he won't have a chance. They only perform this once every hundred years, you realize."

"He's got a time machine. Couldn't he just head for a different one?"

Romana smiled. "It's not quite that easy, but I'll suggest it later, after he's finished pouting. We'll probably head elsewhere first."

# # #

The next stop was Rouen in the 1560s, proving there was definitely no rhyme or reason in where the Doctor steered the TARDIS. The streets were filled with revelers, a festival according to the Doctor's brief (for him) travelogue. They drank wine and ate sweets, swept up in the part atmosphere — until Duggan bumped into a young man in the street who took exception to the action. A flurry of insults concerning hygiene, mothers, and choice of sexual partners filled the air as he stood his ground and gave as good as he got. The mention of sheep was perhaps a mistake because swords were drawn and Romana once again sounded a retreat to the TARDIS. The Doctor didn't speak to him for a good day after that one.

# # #

As the TARDIS doors opened onto a world of pure crystal, the Doctor took in the landscape, turned to look at Duggan, said, "Probably not a good idea," and herded them back inside, off to another stop.

# # #

It was all very entertaining, but after a while, Duggan realized he was fast losing track of the days. "How long have we been gone?" he asked Romana one lazy afternoon as the two of them lounged by a pool with on a pleasure planet, sipping at drinks decorated with alien fruit but very familiar umbrellas. For once, there was nothing exploding, nothing that needed saving or breaking into. The Doctor had wandered off to investigate something neither of them felt the need to exert themselves for, though if things went as they usually did, he'd probably need rescuing later.

Romana sipped at her drink, then tilted her head to one side, considering. "About two months, I believe."

"Two months?" Duggan sat up abruptly, and slammed his hand down on the table. Having just set down her glass, Romana abruptly snatched it up again before it could tumble. "How did that happen?"

"We're traveling through time and space," she pointed out, speaking slowly and carefully as she usually did when explaining something. "If you're not familiar with the various methods of keeping a personal chronology while moving through temporal flux, then it's very easy to miss the date."

"But — my job! I don't think the force would be particularly understanding of me disappearing for two months. Two weeks, sure, but two months?"

Romana lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. "I'm certain we can get you back. It just might…take a little while."

He didn't like the sound of that. "It's a _time machine_. Why can't you just go back to two weeks after I left?"

Now she was beginning to look a bit uncomfortable. "There are considerations. The whole reason we have the TARDIS randomizer activated is because we're trying to avoid the Black Guardian."

"The Black what? I swear, you talk nonsense sometimes."

With a sigh, Romana began to relate the story, telling him about the Key to Time, the Time Lords, the Black Guardian, the White Guardian, and Princess Astra. It was when she reached the part about her species completely changing their bodies that he flagged down the waiter to order another drink.

"I suppose the whole concept must be a bit hard for someone like you to handle," she said after he'd gulped it down and ordered another. "Poor Duggan; you go following the Mona Lisa and get caught up in things you can't possibly understand."

"It's not the understanding that's the problem," he said. "It's the fact that you _chose_ how you look."

"Humans choose how they look all the time – hairstyles, makeup, the very clothes you wear."

He shook his head. "That's not what I'm talking about. The Doctor. How he looks now. If that's what he chooses to look like now, what did he look like before?"

She was quiet as she considered what he was saying, and when the waiter reappeared with Duggan's drink a few moments later, she intercepted the glass and swiftly downed the contents. "Bring us another round," she said. "I feel the need to bleach my brain."

# # #

Given what Romana had told him, Duggan decided against asking the Doctor if there was a way of ensuring they landed on Earth close to when he'd departed. Besides, the Doctor didn't speak to him, really, treating him more like he was some stray Romana had picked up along the way and brought home despite being told not to. Part of Duggan rankled at the insult, but another part of him found it more interesting to step back and watch the rather complicated dance between Romana and the Doctor. There were moments when he was certain something was going on between them, and other times he wondered how Romana could stand traveling with the man.

He'd given up on his own flirtation with her some time back, slowly realizing that she might be charming and friendly, but she was that way to almost everyone – unless she felt the need to be imperious, of course. Why she'd suggested he come along remained a mystery to him; a passing whim, perhaps, or a way to annoy the Doctor. He didn't really want to know, didn't want to be confronted with the idea he'd been a momentary weapon in a complicated relationship who was now a semi-permanent fixture.

In the end, though, that wasn't what made him realize it was time to go home. That happened on Burixackle Six as the three of them were dining on the local cuisine. He looked down at the delicious and exotic food on his plate, and felt his stomach rumble. "I want an omelet."

"I'm certain they can whip one up for you," Romana said, sipping at the hot drink they'd been served, a delicate confection that reminded Duggan of nothing more than warm liquid blueberries. "The eggs of the K'oyetelwa are supposed to be quite a delicacy."

"No, I mean a real omelet with old-fashioned hen's eggs. Black coffee, too, with a rasher of bacon and toast."

"I'm afraid they don't have anything resembling bacon here," she said gently. "Eggs are one thing, but meat itself it not a natural part of their diet."

At the other end of the table, the Doctor mumbled something that sounded like he knew where Duggan could get food like he wanted, but didn't actually bother to address the statement to either Duggan or Romana. Clearly, it was going to be one of _those_ days. "I know," Duggan admitted to her, deciding two could play the ignoring game, "but I'm just craving some thick, meaty slices – and maybe a steak. I could murder for a good steak with chips."

Romana offered him a sad smile. "It's not just the eggs, is it?"

He looked at her and knew that whatever other reasons she might have for wanting him there, she did at least enjoy his company. "Afraid not. Time for me to go home, get back to something resembling a normal life."

Almost immediately, the Doctor perked up. "Oh, waiter! The check please."

"Doctor, we can't simply drop him off anywhere," Romana argued as they made their way back to the TARDIS.

"I have no intention of dropping him off just anywhere. My aim's quite good, you know."

" _That's_ a matter for debate," she shot back, which only served to remind Duggan of his previous conversation with her — and another consideration.

"What about this Black Guardian?" he asked. "Aren't you trying to avoid detection by him?"

"He's right; we can't risk disabling the randomizer. If we can't disable the randomizer, we can't guarantee that we'll be able to get Mr. Duggan anywhere near his time and place."

"We disable the randomizer, take him home, re-enable the randomizer and then make a series of short hops. That should throw him off our trail. Plus, it'll be a short stop to minimize any risk of the detection of our temporal signature, so best you say your goodbyes before we actually land." The Doctor looked back over his shoulder and gave Duggan a grin. "How long will it take to pack your bags?"

"Not much I can really take back with me, is there?" Duggan asked with a bit of surprise at the Doctor's enthusiasm. "Some of the things would cause too many questions."

"Traveling light; good man. Never quite seem to manage it myself. Ah, here we are."

He hustled Duggan and Romana inside the TARDIS, then shooed Duggan off to do what packing was needed. "You _planned_ this," he heard Romana accuse the Doctor behind him as he headed down the corridor.

Part of him didn't want to go, but he knew that he couldn't remain in this strange life, either. It wasn't him; he was a solid, up-right investigator who wasn't afraid of getting his hands dirty while doing what needed to be done to solve a case. Romana and the Doctor were so far beyond his personal realm of experience that at times he didn't know which way to turn.

A few things into the bag he'd acquired on Acaurilias — a photograph or two, that strange piece of coral he'd picked up on the beach, the wonderful lightweight yet warm scarf Romana had found for him in a bazaar when the weather had shifted suddenly on them — then it was back into his old suit and trench coat, all neatly cleaned and pressed. He wasn't quite certain how that happened, but he allowed that it had; the laundry service would definitely be one thing he missed.

Not much time had passed when he walked back into the control room, which was filled with an uncomfortable silence. The Doctor was at the console, fiddling with the controls, while Romana stood a slight distance away, her back to him. Even Duggan could see there'd been a fight and it didn't take a genius to know he was one of the causes. No, better that he go.

"I'm ready," he said to no one in particular, unwilling to standing silence any longer.

The Doctor nodded. "Here we go."

He pulled a lever and the central column began to move. Knowing that he'd either land back in Paris or somewhere else wildly inappropriate and it was out of his control, Duggan moved to join Romana. "I guess this is goodbye."

Arms folded across her chest, she looked up at him and managed a sad smile. "I wish you didn't have to go; there's so much more we could have shown you."

He shrugged. "I'm a bull in a china shop and you know it; you've said it yourself."

"Maybe — but it's certainly never dull when you're around. I wish we could have taken you back to Gallifrey," she said with a laugh. "It would have been marvelous to see what the Lord Cardinals would make of you. The place needs shaking up."

"Maybe it's better I keep my antics a bit more earthbound. Though if you're ever in the area again..."

He left the invitation open, not trusting himself to say more. For a moment, he thought she was about to say something, but then the Doctor was calling, "We're here. Should be about, oh, ten minutes after you left."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Romana said.

"Maybe, but we can't linger; have to get that randomizer back on."

It wasn't quite the bum's rush, but close to it and Duggan could take the hint. Bag in hand, he headed toward the now-open door of the TARDIS and peered out. "Looks like Paris."

"That's a step in the right direction," Romana managed, though the cheerfulness sounded a bit forced. "Any idea what the date is?"

He stepped gingerly out the door, half convinced the Doctor would slam it shut on him and start the dematerialization sequence. They'd managed to land right next to a newsagent, so the answer was easy to find. "Not ten minutes, but about a week after," he said, sticking his head back in the TARDIS.

"Close enough, then," the Doctor said. "Goodbye, Duggan. Lovely to have you on board. Hope to see you again soon, but have to run."

"Have an omelet on me," Romana called, but then the door was closed, a now-familiar wheezing sound, and the TARDIS was gone, leaving Duggan standing on a Paris street with a bag in his hand. With a sigh, he turned away and headed back to the flat he'd been renting at 42 rue Louis Blanc over in the Xth Arrondissement. He'd call the office tomorrow, let them know he was back. It'd be another day or two before he actually went back in the office, but time to start getting back into the routine. If they had anything for him besides a divorce case, he might even go back in sooner.

Already, his adventures were starting to fade slightly as his mind turned to every day concerns. Then, though, as he slid his hand into the pocket of his coat, he felt the postcard he'd bought that day at the Eiffel Tower. There was one piece of clean-up he had to attend to, making certain the Mona Lisa was back in her rightful place, even if it was the one with "This is a fake" written in the Doctor's hand where only x-rays could see.

Retrieving the card, he stared at the smiling face for a moment and was struck by how the famous smile reminded him now of Romana: calm, sure of herself, and more than a little secretive. The day to day might be crowding rapidly back in, but the next time he stood in front of Da Vinci's masterpiece, he knew he'd remember Romana. The next time he broke a window, as well.

With a grin, Duggan shoved the card back into his pocket and headed across the street toward the Metro station. Maybe he'd stop for that omelet along the way.


End file.
